


Holding On

by thegeminisage



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, M/M, Season/Series 06, Soulless Sam Winchester, Soulmates, the natural order
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-15
Updated: 2013-01-15
Packaged: 2017-11-25 14:49:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/639986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegeminisage/pseuds/thegeminisage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If a clock could count down to the moment you meet your soulmate, would you want to know?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holding On

**Author's Note:**

> This was a short ficlet that I added to a Tumblr post, which consisted of the summary above and the picture below, along with many other cool stories! I added one of many. I decided to post it since it got a bit long on me, but it's not heavily edited or anything, so don't expect my best work. The post on my blog (with all the stories) can be found [here](http://thegeminisage.tumblr.com/post/40589508405). 
> 
> And for reference, in case you're not able to click over, this is what the "clock" looks like:
> 
>  
> 
> This fic has spoilers for Season 6. It can be read as either gen or Sam/Dean, depending on which pair of goggles you like to wear. :3 I hope you enjoy it!

Dean gets his installed as soon as he leaves Lisa's. He doesn't put much stock in destiny, but he's tired, he wants to know if he's ever going to settle down. Not that actually finding his soulmate would do much good if he couldn't stick around, but who knows? Maybe, just maybe, he'll finally find someone that he doesn't have to lose. Maybe when this clock finally beeps and falls off he'll be next to someone he gets to keep.

"You oughta get one," he says to Sam, tone light.

Sam rolls his eyes. "We've got plenty to deal with as it is. I don't need another distraction."

"Aren't you at least curious?" Dean is.

"You can just be curious enough for both of us."

So Dean keeps his under his sleeve until he gets back to the motel, wanting to look at it for the first time in privacy. He doesn't really know why he's nervous. When he gets to the bathroom he double checks that the door is locked and pulls his sleeve up.

...less than a _year_? He had more warning for Hell!

He tugs his sleeve back down, heart racing. Less than a year. _Okay_ , he thinks. _Okay._ And he tries to put it out of mind.

* * *

Between the civil war in Heaven and the monsters on Earth acting out of sorts, Dean doesn't have much time to contemplate or keep up with how much time he has left. He helps Bobby win his soul back, turns into a vampire, gets cursed, hunts down a pack of skinwalkers and gets _abducted by aliens_ , and yeah, he's got more important crap to worry about.

When he's about to be fed to ghouls in Crowley's monster gitmo he holds up his hands to block a blow, and the clock's what suffers, a wide scratch through the entire display, making it impossible to read. It's still on, firmly attached, but it does him little good like this.

Later, he tries to pry it off, since it's broken anyway, tells himself he didn't really care—but it's stuck. Great. He's going to go through the rest of his life with the reminder that not only did he fall into buying one of those stupid clocks, he couldn't even manage one right long enough to find who he was looking for. Maybe there's a surgical procedure he can try or something. No way in hell is he asking Sam or Bobby to cut it out of him.

When he lays down on in a makeshift doctor's office to have himself killed and brought back to life, the doctor notes his broken clock. "I could take that out for you," he says. "There'll be another fee for that, of course."

"Of course," says Dean. "Well, if I make it back, we'll see."

* * *

When he's finally standing face to face with Death himself, he wonders if maybe he has to die to get there. To meet his soulmate. Wouldn't that be a riot?

After he's done attempting to bargain, after he's tried to last a day and failed, Death comes to see him in Bobby's kitchen. They share cheap food and chat as if they're old friends, sans the affection. "The human soul is not a rubber ball," Death tells him. "It's vulnerable, impermanent, but stronger than you know. And more valuable than you can imagine. But you failed. And I'm not going to further ruin the natural order just for you."

Dean brings both hands up to his head, runs them back through his hair. "Isn't there anything I can do?" He already knows the answer. "Please, whatever you want."

Death's eyes slide to his wrist, hidden by his sleeve, as and Dean suddenly remembers the broken clock stubbornly attached to his skin. There's no doubt that Death can see whatever he tries to keep hidden. 

"Curious thing you have there," Death says. "Curious indeed." A pause. "We're done here. It's been lovely. But now I'm going to Hell to get your brother's soul."

"Why would you do that for me?" Dean asks. "You just said—"

"I wouldn't do it for _you_ ," says Death, and then he's gone.

* * *

Ten days later he's sitting in Bobby's living room, nursing a drink and praying Bobby's got a hunt because if he stays in this house one more second he's going to start climbing walls. "Can I help? Send me to the library? Anything?"

Bobby's quick with his summary. "...just gone. No body, no nothing."

"Okay," says Dean, "I'm not changing the channel—"

Then Dean hears his name from behind him and wheels around to see Sam, on his feet at last. He can tell with one look at his face that yeah, he's changed. "Sam?"

Before he knows it Sam's got him in one of those life-affirming hugs that are too much to ask for unless someone's died. And Dean doesn't hear the tiny half-broken beeping of his clock. He doesn't feel it falling to the floor, having finally let him go.

He's too busy holding on.


End file.
